


Winter in Chicago

by Cottonstones



Category: Panic At The Disco, Young Veins
Genre: M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 11:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottonstones/pseuds/Cottonstones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan doesn’t like winter, especially winter in Chicago. So why is Ryan spending his time freezing in the city? One reason: Jon Walker is there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter in Chicago

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [spindlelimbs](http://spindlelimbs.livejournal.com/).

“Chicago hates me,” Ryan says into his pillow. Jon laughs from next to him where he’s sitting propped against the headboard. He’s seated on top of the thick comforter that Ryan’s curled up under. Only the very top of Ryan’s head is visible; Jon is kind of tempted to run his fingers through his soft curls. 

“No,” Jon says as he sets his coffee down on the nightstand next to the bed. He slides down the bed so that he’s lying flat on his back, Ryan’s blanketed body curled next to him. “Chicago loves you, Ryan. Chicago is the city of love.” 

Ryan snorts. “You’re thinking of Paris.” 

Jon feels Ryan rolling over, so he turns his head, watching until he sees Ryan’s bright eyes staring at him. Jon can hear the faint whistle of wind trying to push in through the windows of Jon’s apartment. He rolls on to his side so that he and Ryan are face-to-face. Jon rests his hand on Ryan’s comforter-covered hip, watching the steady rise and fall of Ryan’s breathing. 

“You’ve just been in California too long,” Jon tells him. Ryan rolls his eyes. Jon can see his knee shifting under the blankets. 

“Do you want to know why Chicago hates me?” Ryan asks. Jon nods. “The very first time I ever come to visit you here and actually stay at your place is when Chicago decides to have the biggest, coldest snowstorm of the century.” 

Jon slides his hand over the outline of Ryan’s body up to where the blanket gives way. He runs his fingers through Ryan’s hair, his dark locks curling around his digits. Ryan sighs softly, content. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jon whispers. It’s the truth. It’s something that he’s wanted for a long time: to have Ryan staying at his place, lounging on Jon’s couch, drinking coffee in the kitchen, playing with the cats and Marley. 

“Don’t make me feel guilty,” Ryan murmurs. There’s some shuffling and then Ryan’s pulling back the thick blanket, holding the corner up in the air. Jon arches an eyebrow. “Get under here before I freeze to death. I’m not like you, Jon. I don’t have the Chicago winter immunity.” 

Jon laughs and moves forward so that he and Ryan are pressed together. Ryan’s all soft and warm. He lowers the blanket down over the two of them before he wraps an arm around Jon. Their faces are pressed close together and Ryan’s mouth is turned up just a little. 

“But, in California, you can’t do all the classic winter activities,” Jon says. He lets his fingers trail over the little expanse of exposed, pale skin between the waistband of Ryan’s sweatpants and the bottom of the t-shirt of Jon’s that Ryan is wearing. Jon moves his fingers down and over so that they’re playing across the slight soft bump of Ryan’s stomach. He rests his palm against Ryan’s belly. 

Ryan gasps. “Cold hands, Jon.” 

Jon pushes a leg between Ryan’s. “Sorry,” he whispers, but he feels Ryan’s long, nimble fingers sliding up under the back of his t-shirt, scratching at the skin of his back a little. 

The two of them are sharing the same pillow, Jon’s chin jutted out just a bit. Ryan’s little turned-up mouth has changed into a full-fledged smile and Jon basks in it. 

“You want to do these winter activities with me?” Ryan teases as he presses closer and pulls his hand out from under Jon’s shirt, wrapping himself around Jon instead. Jon huffs out a soft laugh and tilts his head up so that their eyes meet. 

Ryan closes the space between them and presses a chaste kiss to Jon’s soft, slightly wind-chapped lips. 

“Mm, yeah, I can’t wait to see how well Ryan Ross can make a snow angel,” Jon says. Ryan scoffs before pressing another kiss to Jon’s mouth. 

“Not lying in the snow, Jon.” 

Jon plays with the hair at the nape of Ryan’s neck. “Sledding? Is sledding okay? You can wrap your legs around me real tight. I promise I’m an excellent sled driver.”

Ryan rolls his eyes, but he’s not saying ‘no,’ and his fingers curl warm around Jon’s shoulder as Ryan kisses him again. It’s deeper, the warmth of Ryan’s tongue pressing in his mouth. Jon hooks his leg around Ryan’s hip before he rolls over onto his back, pulling Ryan down on top of him. 

Ryan lies on top of Jon, the blanket still covering the two of them, and kisses him slow, lazy. There’s warmth spreading all through Jon’s body; he hums contentedly into the kiss. Ryan’s hands are spread on his chest, fingertips brushing down his neck, teasing into the collar of Jon’s shirt. 

Jon’s absolutely sure that he’d be fine with lying here the rest of his life with Ryan curled around him, kissing him, stealing his breath, keeping him warm. Ryan breaks their kiss and nuzzles his face into the side of Jon’s neck, pressing kisses to his jaw. 

Jon pushes his fingers through Ryan’s hair, moving it out of his face.

“So that’s a yes on the sledding, then?”


End file.
